<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Fall in love with the small moments by hopelessly_me</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061234">Fall in love with the small moments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me'>hopelessly_me</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spoopy season 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, jumping into leaf pile, making breakfast, raking up leaves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:21:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Natasha lifted her head and Clint’s smile grew wider. “You are raking the leaves to…?”<br/>“Jump in them, of course,” Clint finished for her. “Come on- you never jumped into a leaf pile before?” Natasha didn’t even have to answer him- Clint just knew. “... okay, so we are doing this today. Together.”</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spoopy season 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fall in love with the small moments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Natasha stood on the front porch cradling a mug of tea, the smell of yesterday’s paint still lingering in the air, mixing with the smell of autumn. The cold was biting at her nose, nipping at her feet, and she knew she probably should have put her slippers or boots on, but she liked the wake up call from the cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halfway out in the yard was Clint, who had managed to wake up before dawn and sneak out of bed undetected. He was raking up the leaves, a faint whistling reaching her ears when the wind stilled. There were some things about Clint she was never going to understand, she had come to terms with that awhile ago. She knew there was a leaf blower in the garage but he hadn’t brought it out this morning. He was still in his pajamas, a crumpled hoodie swamping his frame- and yet the tune he was whistling was a happy one. The mixed emotions it sent her was confusing but maybe that was her favorite thing about Clint- he was always evolving, always adapting, never one to stay too stagnant for too long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a soft noise down towards her leg and something brushed against the side of her shins. She crouched down and buried her face into Lucky’s coat, happy that she convinced Clint to groom the mutt before coming all the way to Iowa. “Good boy,” she whispered a few times, her fingers scratching behind his ears before under his chin. Lucky was a good boy- a good, old boy that she was pretty sure was going to wreck them both when he decided it was time to go. But for now, she was bound and determined to give him a little love, just enough where Clint would lightly tease her about being soft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he at least feed you?” She asked the dog with a song in her voice. Lucky laid down with a groan and she sat with him, taking a sip from her tea before she set it aside in favor of petting Lucky. He started to whine, almost like he was anticipating something; his tail was sweeping the floor, his ears up and alert. “What is it?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then all at once she got her answer. There was a loud, sharp whistle and Lucky took off like he was a young, spry thing. Clint barely turned in time to watch as Lucky barreled into the pile of leaves, disappearing except for the flashes of gold in a sea of yellows, oranges, and reds. Clint’s loud laugh was unrestrained in a way that made a warm feeling sink into Natasha’s soul. It was another thing about Clint she would never get over- how pure and elating his laugh could be when he was at his best. It was something she hoped the world would never take away from him, or away from her for that matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint finally caught sight of Natasha and jogged back to the house. His face was turning a bright shade of pink against the cool air, his hair was more of a disaster than usual, but he looked so happy. He collapsed down next to Natasha and pressed up against her side. She smiled and closed her eyes, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. He murmured a hello beautiful as he kissed the top of her head before he went quiet, enjoying the peace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken them a long time to get to this point. Their story was a long one, and no one really knew the true story. The rumors had shaped and molded it until tales like urban legends. But after years of patience, growth, learning to live and work with each other they had this. They got to share the quiet moments as well as the loud; they shared their nightmares, their insecurities, things they never would dare tell another person. They were the only ones who knew each other’s real stories, and every day Natasha learned to appreciate it more, appreciate Clint more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have used a leaf blower,” Natasha commented after a few minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, it scares Lucky,” Clint answered, his eyes cast out towards Lucky and the surrounding land. “And his favorite thing in the world is running through those leaves. Reminds me of the time I did it- back in the circus days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Played in the leaves?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. Why else do you think I purposely go around stepping on the crunching ones?” Clint asked, his lips not quite a smile but close. “Satisfying. But I think I’ll let Lucky go first this year then I’ll go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha lifted her head and Clint’s smile grew wider. “You are raking the leaves to…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jump in them, of course,” Clint finished for her. “Come on- you never jumped into a leaf pile before?” Natasha didn’t even have to answer him- Clint just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “... okay, so we are doing this today. Together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds dirty,” Natasha said, her nose wrinkling up at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can wear my clothes,” Clint offered. “Then yours are still fine. And you haven’t showered yet this morning so I mean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was such a simple request and action that Natasha wouldn’t be able to say no. Not with how excited Clint was about it at first, or that sheepish smile, one hand scratching the back of his neck where there was a scar from when he was twelve. It was one of his many nervous habits Natasha had picked up on over the years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha got up and grabbed her mug. “Breakfast first. Then we can go play out in the leaves,” she negotiated. “I’m thinking crepes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint got up with a groan even though he appeared to be brimming with happiness. “Never made those before. You sure you wanna push your luck today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe in you,” Natasha replied with a pat to his shoulders before she took off inside. It was about thirty seconds before she heard that loud whistle, knowing that Clint and Lucky were coming inside as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha changed into the smallest pair of Clint’s sweats she could find, folding the waist down to make them snug. It was more of a formality that Clint offered his clothes to her because Natasha had been raiding his clothes for years now. In general she liked the loose fit and that oddly happy look on Clint’s face when he caught her in something of his. Then on the bad days, when Clint was away or hurt, she liked the comfort they brought. The smell alone could help settle Natasha to sleep if she needed it. It couldn’t compare to sleeping </span>
  <em>
    <span>with</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clint, but she could almost pretend he was there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha peeked in from around the corner, watching Clint was he went between a YouTube video and the food. He was talking loudly back to the YouTube video, asking them to have mercy, asking for them to repeat what they had said with an exhausted sounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could picture the exact expression on his face. Natasha sucked in her bottom lip at the scene in front of her, watching as that warmth filled her up to the brim. Maybe Clint was right- maybe she was getting softer over time. But if Lucky and Clint were the ones she was getting soft over she wasn’t sure she minded it much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> you staring at me, you weirdo,” Clint sang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid if I come closer I’ll have to get involved,” Natasha replied, taking a seat at the island.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your cooking tastes like shit,” Clint commented. He wasn’t wrong- Natasha could not cook, and she didn’t want to learn. “You could stand a lesson of twelve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I learn when I have you?” That must have taken Clint by surprise because he turned around, looking somewhat in awe, and somewhat embarrassed. Maybe it wasn’t fair to hit him with random moments of affection, but Natasha enjoyed seeing the look on his face when she did. He looked like he was proud, like he had been given the best gift in the world. If she did it too often she was afraid that look would go away, or become so normal it lost all of its meaning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “You are going to burn my crepe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint jumped back into action and Natasha looked down at her mug, refilled with tea. She picked it up for the first perfect sniff and settled in between her hands with a content sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay so… it looks like I killed it five times over but…” Clint slid the plate over to Natasha before he leaned on the counter. “Let me know.” He looked proud of himself, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha carefully cut into her breakfast and took a small bite. With an approving nod, Clint let out a loud whoop of a sound before he danced in his spot. Natasha dropped her fork and covered her mouth, trying her hardest not to laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are an absolute dork, Barton.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am taking that as a compliment!” Clint flashed her a wicked smirk before he went back to cooking. “I’m thinking I like the kitchen redesign idea by the way. I looked at it again and, I mean, it doesn’t offer great coverage in case someone finds us here but there are a lot of places to hide a knife or gun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Natasha was used to Clint’s love hate relationship with the old Barton home. He remodeled it, added on space to avoid the older bedrooms, running from the ghosts of his past. The kitchen though- that was a space Natasha wanted changed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And since I’m not allowed to have purple-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is correct.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- I figured greys with hints of yellow might look nice.” He grabbed his plate and sat down. “Might brighten the space up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha slid his coffee mug closer to him. “I still think red and black would look better,” she said teasingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would,” Clint mumbled as he tucked into his food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t too long until Clint was tossing a knit hat at Natasha, grabbing one for himself as he went outside. “You’ll love it! I swear! There’s nothing better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that about laying in the middle of the field too,” Natasha pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I wasn’t wrong.” He wasn’t wrong- there was something oddly soothing about being lost in a field to others, the warmth of the sun beating down on you as you listened to the rustling of everything around you- at least it was soothing once Natasha became used to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we use the leaf blower?” Natasha asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint flashed her an offended look and bent down to put his hands over Lucky’s ears. “Why, Nat? Why would you want to do that to our child?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our child?” Natasha asked, a sudden laugh bursting out with the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint nodded with the most serious of faces on. “Our child. Our baby. Our Lucko-bucko-dog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t like that one,” Natasha said with a groan. “Too long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint grinned up at her and removed his hands from Lucky’s ears, scratching behind them inside. Natasha smiled as Lucky made happy groaning noises, his head pressing into Clint’s hands as Clint found the right spots. “It's okay, boy. She didn’t mean it. She’s not going to get the evil leaf blower out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we going to do this whole jumping thing or what?” Natasha asked, faking exasperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah,” Clint said as he made it to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint didn’t even ask her if she wanted to help with the raking, which was fine by her, it didn’t look enjoyable. Out of the two of them, Clint was the one who needed to use his hands to work off the stress; Natasha could let the stress go by sitting quietly and meditating, or sparring- she was versatile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took longer than Natasha was expecting, Clint making the leaf pile as big as he could. Natasha would playfully suggest the leaf blower occasionally, only to be greeted with a glare or Clint flipped her his ring finger where a golden band shone brightly in the sunlight. One of these days Natasha was going to surprise him by wearing her ring too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is done!” Clint said excitedly, throwing his hands up in the air, letting the rake fall. “It is done and it is glorious!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I just… jump?” Natasha asked, eyeing the pile that was nearly half her height.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep!” Clint’s grin was a mile wide at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha tied her hair up, assessing the situation. Clint has stopped a few times to throw sticks away, which meant she wasn’t likely to get too hurt. It really couldn’t harm to let loose every now and again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are telling no one I did this,” Natasha warned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only everyone,” Clint agreed. “I think Tony and Fury will get a kick out of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha let out a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah</span>
  </em>
  <span> before she turned around, her back to the pile. She reached a hand out to Clint with a smile. “Want to join me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get to participate in your first time?” Clint asked with a sly grin, stepping closer to take her hand, his back to the pile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha rolled her eyes. “Keep it up and I’m going inside and locking you out.” Clint started to protest. “Three-“ Clint was as quiet as a mouse, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. Natasha looked over at him. “Two-“ Clint’s smile had died down to something quieter. He raised their hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “One.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In sync, they both let themselves freefall. The woosh combined with the crunching of leaves was almost overpowering at first, Natasha closing her eyes to let herself adjust. The leaves did soften the fall, if only a little, and then everything went still for a moment. All Natasha heard was the crunching of the leaves around her, the shifting of hers and Clint’s bodies, and Lucky’s very inpatient whine. It smelled like dirt, like autumn, and hints of Clint’s clothes. Her favorite part was looking up at the sky above, light filtering between the leaves, and she could understand why Clint went through the trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was overwhelming, in a way. It was something so small but the feeling behind it felt larger than she could describe. This was something she missed out on when she was younger, but now she could enjoy it with the person she loved and it was- it was a little bit of-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky!” Natasha hissed when the mutt finally lost his patience and joined them, doing circles, not caring who he stepped on or where. Even Clint groaned and grunted, likely taking the most damage from the overly excited dog. And then he laughed and Natasha felt at peace again, watching the sky above.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took a moment before Lucky stilled and Natasha was greeted with a cold, wet nose against her hand. She smiled and closed her eyes before she took a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” Clint asked. Natasha wasn’t sure if he was looking her way, if he had moved at all after Lucky’s entrance to the fray. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smells like dirt.” Clint sighed and she felt his hand loosen, so she tightened her grip. “Can we stay here for a little while?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah- however long you’d like,” Clint promised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she was getting soft, loosening up, enjoying small things like this. She could hear it now, memories from before, someone scolding her for her unorthodox behavior. She could hear her own subconscious telling her she didn’t deserve moments like this. None of that mattered when it came to Clint, moments like this that she knew they both needed for their own selfish reasons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned her head and peered over to Clint, his eyes closed and his head tilted up a little to catch as many rays of sunlight as he could. Soon enough winter would blow in and they wouldn’t have moments like this until the spring. She let go of his hand and rolled carefully until she was tucked up against his side. After a moment his arm curled around her and he sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Natasha whispered, knowing it was just soft enough that Clint wouldn’t be able to hear it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After so many years together, it was like Clint didn’t need to hear it in order to know it was said. “I love you too,” he whispered back, pulling a smile out of Natasha as she closed her eyes.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>